The Dance
by myownlittleinfinity
Summary: Rose Weasley is in her seventh year at Hogwarts, and has feelings for Albus's best friend, Scorpius Malfoy. Can she get past her unrequited infatuation before it's too late? The night of a dance might change everything. One shot!


The thing about loving Scorpius Malfoy is that it _hurts_. It hurts in an aching-heart-weighing-my-chest-down kind of way. It is physically painful, but I do it anyways. I do it because when he smiles, when he laughs, I forget about the ache. All I feel is air, like I'm flying. The best is when he smiles _at_ me or laughs _with_ me. He'll turn to me every so often to see if I'm laughing, too.

That's why today sucked. Because when he turned to see if I laughed at his snide remark, (an occurrence so rare I try to remember each time it happens), I don't laugh. I can't. The only thing going through my mind is Scorpius's lips on Lavinia Bell's in a dark corridor. Since Marianna told me the rumour at breakfast, everything inside is warring between fight or flight. The fight bit tells me that this is only gossip, but the flight reminds me how easily this could be true. Not a lot of people make it to seventh year having never kissed anyone. Sometimes it seems like only me. In Scorpius's case, I'm fairly certain he isn't even a _virgin_.

So I glance away when Scorpius looks at me. I _know_ I'll zoom in on his lips and wonder if he liked it.

xoxoxo

"Rose! Hey!"

I turn to see Albus running towards me, robes dishevelled and stray papers peeking out from his leather satchel.

"Did you do the Charms homework yet?"

Despite it being after dinner, and despite the fact that I probably should have done it, I shake my head. "Ask Scorpius to ask Lavinia. I'm sure she's done it." We start walking towards the library.

"Lavinia? Why would he ask _her_? She's bollocks at quidditch. No way would Scorp even talk to her."

I snort because I'm also "bollocks" at quidditch. Even if I practiced all day every day, I wouldn't get better. If Scorpius likes athletic girls, I'm already out of the running. "Rumour has it that he snogged her last night."

Albus and I sit at our favourite homework table towards the back. We pull out our matching Charms textbooks. While mine is pristine, (a testament to how much I use it), Albus's looks like it was ravaged by the Burrow's garden gnomes.

"I guess he could have; he did go out for a while last night before curfew."

"Maybe you should ask him," I say with what I hope is subtle vehemence, but of course he's as oblivious as ever. He just starts reading the assigned text.

xoxoxo

"C'mon," Marianna says while we get ready for bed. "I know for a _fact_ you don't have anything to do next Saturday."

"I've got _loads_ of—"

"If you say 'homework,' I'll scream! You can do it on Sunday. Please help? I'll be stuck with Gryffindors. I cannot possibly listen to another Hufflepuff joke from their bulbous heads."

"Watch it, that's our parents' house you're talking about."

She huffs and places a hand on her hip. I stare up at her from the edge of my bed. "Rose, you _will_ help me set-up for the dance. You'll do it because you love me and don't want to see me suffer for three hours."

I roll my eyes. "Fine, but I _do_ have chorus practice in the morning so I might be a little late."

Marianna jumps on me, propelling me backwards onto my bed in a monstrous hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

xoxoxo

"So, Scorpius didn't know the answer to six." Albus sits down beside me during breakfast at the Hufflepuff table. "I'm here on recon."

Marianna giggles. "As if Rose would have gotten it when Scorpius didn't."

I kick her under the table. "I'm just as smart as him!"

"But you're too much of a daydreamer," Marianna says before eating a piece of toast.

". . . so did you get six?"

"No," I admit. "Where is Scorpius anyway? Couldn't be bothered to get up from the table this morning?"

Albus helps himself to a bit of sausage from my plate. "Nope, he's with Longbottom in the greenhouse."

"Why?" Marianna asks.

He furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember before shrugging. "I guess he needs extra credit or something," Albus says with a mouthful of sausage.

"Honestly, you're worse than my father," I say in reference to his eating habits.

"Hey! Uncle Ron is pretty great."

"There's no way that _Scorpius Malfoy_ needs extra credit—in any class. His grades are impeccable," Marianna says.

"He's been spending a lot of mornings there," Albus says.

"You are so unobservant," I say.

Marianna rolls her eyes. "You _both_ are."

Albus stands and waves towards the entrance to the Great Hall. "Oi! Scorp! Over here!"

I follow his movements to Scorpius at the double doors. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hands look stained with dirt. I have never seen his blonde hair in such disarray. He looks sexier than usual.

Scorpius sees Albus's brash waving and blushes a little at Marianna and me. I swear my heart stuttered—even if the blush doesn't mean what I think it means, I can pretend. But he walks over to the Slytherin table with a little wave.

"Well, I'm off, ladies! Have a lovely breakfast." Albus gets up and heads over toward Scorpius across the Great Hall.

"Someone looks a little scruffy," Marianna says with a small smile staring down at her plate.

"Shut it," I mutter.

"Just tell him how you feel—who really cares?"

"You don't get it. He's practically part of my family—he's everywhere."

"So, your parents already love him."

"But what if _he_ doesn't—y'know—like me?"

"But wouldn't you rather know than not?" Marianna reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze.

"Mar, it's not just a . . . _crush_."

"Yeah, I picked up on that."

"It hurts," I say.

She nods her wonderful, Marianna Wood nod and gives me another squeeze before pulling away. "We should go to class."

xoxoxo

"I need a love potion," Hugo says.

We're on the lawn by the Black Lake. I'm reading a biography about the Weird Sisters. _He_ is obsessively rummaging through my sixth and seventh year Potions textbooks that he demanded I bring.

"You're a Ravenclaw, make your own," I say.

"So much for loyalty," he retorts.

"C'mon, you're smart. At the very least consider Uncle George—those potions are supposedly very potent."

"No, then everyone will know—Uncle George couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it."

I set my book down and shift from my belly to my side. "What do _you_ need a love potion for, anyway?"

He sets down my sixth-year Potions textbook. His circular wire-rimmed glasses are low on the bridge of his nose. "Karen Post. She doesn't even notice me." He says it like it's a fact, not an emotion.

"Is she a Ravenclaw? Because if she is, she probably doesn't notice anything besides her books."

"She's in _your_ house," Hugo says.

Oh. "What year?"

"Fourth."

"But you're in fifth!"

"So? It's not a crime to like someone in a younger year." He indignantly pushes his glasses upwards.

"Okay, okay. Have you tried talking to her?"

"Once."

"I'm guessing it didn't go well." Hugo probably tried to talk to the poor girl about plants.

"It's my favourite batch of cousins!"

Hugo and I both look up to see Albus and Scorpius walking toward us.

"Lovely day for an afternoon stroll, isn't it Scorp?" Albus smiles and then plops down next to us, Scorp following his lead.

"Excellent, in fact. Nice biography by the way—read it last summer."

My head jerks in Scorpius's direction—did he just speak to me? Did he comment on my book? "Uh . . . yeah. I'm halfway through and I'm really enjoying it."

"So is that what you want to do, after graduation? Pursue music?" He's looking at me with this intensity. His eyes are _so_ blue.

"What?"

"You're in chorus, right?"

He knew that? "Oh, right. Yeah. I'm not really sure about what I'm doing after Hogwarts. What about you? Are you going to do quidditch?"

He smiles widely. I can see how one of his top teeth gently juts out in front of the other. "I _really_ hope so. The Chudley Cannons are recruiting a little before graduation."

"The _Cannons_?"

"I know, he's mental. I try to tell him Puddlemere United is where he should be, but his heart's set," Albus says.

"The Chudley Cannons are the _worst_ ," I say.

Scorpius shrugs. "Maybe I could start a revolution."

"What will Mr. Malfoy say to that?"

"Dad'll live. Hey—what are all these Potions textbooks doing here?"

I grab my book and continue reading, because this is _so_ not my problem.

"I need a—a—a love potion," Hugo says. I'm sure his cheeks are bright red.

"What on earth for? You're a Weasley—Uncle George told me how suave he and Fred were with the ladies. You've got it covered," Albus says.

"Strange considering Uncle George never brings a girlfriend to a single family gathering," I say not looking up.

"Thanks, Rose," Hugo says with solemnity in his voice.

"Any time."

"Well, maybe I can help," Scorpius says. But he says it quietly, like he isn't quite sure he can.

"Oh, yeah! Scorp is _great_ with the birds," Albus says.

"Don't call us 'birds,' please," I say.

"I don't know . . ." I look up and see Hugo clenching his fists—a nervous tick.

"Go-Go, it's okay," I say and reach over to pat his knee. "It's all right if you don't want to tell them."

"No, that's—that's quite fine. I, erm, well . . . she's just . . . and she doesn't . . ." Hugo stares so intently at the ground.

"Have you tried talking to her?" Scorpius says.

" _Yes_ , and she just doesn't _notice_ me."

"Make her—do something extraordinary. You're a Ravenclaw—can't you invent something?"

"He's more of a book person, actually," I say.

Scorpius's eyes light up. "Perfect! Write her some poetry, then."

"I don't write," Hugo says.

"Just ask her to the dance," I say. "If she says no, it's not like anyone but us knows how much you like her, right?"

"I guess so . . ."

"C'mon, Go-Go, you have one shot!" I smile.

Hugo rolls his eyes.

"Why were we even here?" Albus says.

"Moral support, mate," says Scorpius. He then turns to me and winks.

 _Scorpius Malfoy just winked at me_. I'm not sure I can breathe, I'm not sure if I'm moving. My face warms—a blush expanding. Scorpius's smirk spreads into a wide grin at my reaction.

"You comin' to the quidditch match this Saturday?" Scorpius says.

"Oi, do you have a date, too?" Albus says.

"Erm, no. What do you mean 'too?'"

"Scorp won't tell me who, but he says he's got his eyes set on a lovely lady."

My stomach bottoms out. Of course, he's got his eyes on someone. Probably Lavinia. "Oh, well that's nice. Hey, I promised to meet Marianna before dinner. Good luck, Go-Go," I say and pick up my two textbooks along with my biography. I try not to look at Scorpius, but it's hard. His silver-blonde hair demands attention in the sunny afternoon.

"Oh, um, bye Rose," Scorpius says.

I look at him and force a smile. "Bye everyone."

I practically sprint back to the castle.

xoxoxo

Marianna doesn't say something stupid, like, "Maybe he's talking about you!" She just stays silent while I bitch and moan on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. She pats a foot from her perch at the end of my mattress.

"I'm sorry, Rose."

"He's so cruel! Why would he _wink_?"

"He's a winking fiend," Marianna says with mock admonishment.

I laugh a little through my tears. "I'm so silly."

"It's not silly to feel this way."

"But it seems silly. I bet no one has ever cried over _me_."

"No, probably not."

I throw the pillow beneath my head at her. "Thanks a lot!"

She grins. "I'm just saying. You're quiet, you keep to yourself. You don't let a lot of people in."

"If you had my parents you wouldn't either."

She gives me a sad smile. "I can't even imagine."

Being the child of two very famous war heroes breeds poseurs. My first year at Hogwarts was a nightmare, trying to figure out who liked me for _me_ and not because my mum and dad are Harry Potter's best mates. I'm so thankful I was put in Hufflepuff—loyalty was just the virtue I needed in a house. My housemates looked out for me.

"C'mon, we're going to miss dinner," Marianna says. She bounces off my mattress and claps her hands.

I try to keep my hair around my face so that my blotchy eyes aren't as noticeable. A lot of people have cleared out of the Great Hall by the time we sit down. I start reaching for some mashed potatoes when silver-blonde hair from across the room catches my eyes. Scorpius stares at me, a light frown marring his features—like I'm a puzzle he can't quite solve. I avert my gaze and jostle my hair further onto my face, effectively cutting off any eye contact.

I put down the mashed potato serving spoon and go for the green beans when Hugo slides in next to me.

"I went for it."

I turn to him, bewildered. "What?"

"I asked Karen Post to the dance." He smiles widely at me.

"She said yes?"

He nods. "I'm so excited—hey, are you okay?"

 _Bollocks_ , my eyes are still puffed up. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Is it because Scorpius is going to ask a girl who isn't you to the dance?" Hugo looks at me with curiosity befitting a science experiment.

I sputter. "Well, um—how—you know?"

"Oh yes, I've known for quite some time, now."

Marianna snorts. I glare at her. "How?"

"I'm very observant."

I breathe out deeply through my nose. "Well, congratulations on your date. I'm trying to eat."

"Right, well thank you for the advice." Hugo gets up from the table.

I groan and set my elbows on the table. "How is it possible that my robot of a brother can get a date, but I can't?"

"Because he asked," Marianna says.

xoxoxo

We're sitting at breakfast. I stew over the Charms homework while Marianna reads _The Daily Prophet_. "Oh my god," I say.

"What?"

"Marianna—I've never even asked. Who do you want to go to the dance with?"

She laughs. "No one at Hogwarts, I can tell you that much."

"So he's graduated?"

"Yeah, but I doubt he'd remember me."

"Wow, you're more fucked than I am," I say. I thought my situation was hopeless, but now I feel a little better about it.

"Thanks, Rose," Marianna says, rolling her eyes. She turns back to her copy of _The_ _Prophet_.

"Anytime."

I can't figure out one question; it's the very last one. I'm pants at Charms, so this isn't surprising, but it is frustrating.

"Okay, so I need your help," Lily says.

I look up and see my fifth-year cousin, Lily Potter, sliding in next to me. "Shocker."

"You have too much family here," Marianna says.

I turn to her. "I know."

"Oh, stuff it. I need your help. You know the quidditch match this Saturday?" Lily says.

"Not going," I say whilst focusing on my homework.

She punches my upper arm so that my quill goes across my scrawled answers. " _Lily_!"

"Ooh! Sorry, Rose! I need you to help me throw Scorp off of his game," Lily says.

I huff. "Lily? I honestly could not care any less about this quidditch match. I'm sure Hugo will have an idea."

"Rose, did you think I came to you first? If this were about music, you're the first gal I'd come to. But when _sabotage_ comes into play, Hugo was definitely in line before you."

I choose to not be offended. "Great, maybe write Uncle George or James. I'm sure they'll have a trove of ideas just waiting to be used."

She groans. "Thanks for nothing, Rose." Lily stands and exits.

"God, your family is so _pushy_ ," Marianna says.

"Sometimes I think I'm the only normal one," I say.

"What's James up to, again?"

"I think he's working at the joke shop until he figures things out. Not quite sure—he's a bit annoying, really. Still calls me 'Rosie Posy,' as if I'm a child."

"Hmm, maybe he'll take over the shop from your Uncle George?"

I nod, only half listening. "He might." If I bullshit this answer hard enough, I might get partial credit.

"Blimey, speaking of your family," Marianna says.

I look up to see Albus. "Lily was just over here."

He nods seriously before sitting in the same spot as his sister. "Right, and did she mention trying to ruin Scorp's focus?"

"Yeah. Look, did you get the answer to the final question?"

"I swear; her head is put on funny. Can she not rely on skill? Gryffindors trying to undermine a quidditch match—will the wonders never cease?" Of course the only time he's methodically thinking through _anything_ is in reference to quidditch.

I sigh. "She is definitely breaking stereotypes."

"What else did she say? Do you know who she's going to next?"

I shrug. "Lily already went to Hugo. I told her to write James or Uncle George."

"You did what?"

There is honestly no point in trying to finish Charms here. "Right, well I'll see you in class, then." I get up and head toward my first lesson.

xoxoxo

"I heard he might ask Lavinia," Gigi Avery mutters behind me in Potions.

"No! I heard that that whole rumour was a hoax," Christina Crabbe retorts.

Ravenclaws are the _worst_ gossips—they just _have_ to know _everything_. But I couldn't feel more thankful to sit in front of them in a class I couldn't care any less about.

"Really? She told me that they've been snogging regularly."

"Well of course she said that—he's right fit! But it isn't true—from what I've seen he doesn't even acknowledge her. Malfoy may be a know-it-all, but he certainly isn't a cad."

"But who else could he ask?"

"Not sure, really. He's been keeping to himself lately."

"Ooh, I heard that . . ."

If he isn't asking Lavinia, who could Scorpius Malfoy be asking to the dance?

xoxoxo

"Hey Rose," he says in my ear.

I bolt straight up from my library seat. Scorpius situates himself on the edge of the mahogany table, looking down at me. Warmth spreads through my skin at his smirk.

"Hey Scorp."

"Mind if I sit?" He nods his head to the empty chair next to me.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Both sitting, I'm able to peruse his person more and notice the dirt under his fingernails and muddy stains on his forearms. "Rumour has it that you're doing extra credit with Professor Longbottom."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Rumour, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "Not really—just what Al told me and Marianna."

Has he already asked the mystery girl to the dance?

"Al doesn't know what he's talking about half the time," Scorpius says.

Does she like quidditch? Will she be at the game this Saturday waving his scarf? The thoughts make my stomach turn and I can't help the grimace that appears.

"Hey—are you okay?"

I nod with tight lips. "Great, yeah."

He scratches the back of his head making his white-blonde hair stick straight up. "Okay, erm, are you going to come to the quidditch game?"

"Chorus rehearsal."

Scorpius breathes out of his nose before bringing his bag onto the table. "That's too bad."

I sigh internally. One of the few times I'm alone with Scorpius and we're doing work. "Not really."

His looks at me with an expression of worry. "You don't want to go?"

"I'd rather not witness my family's ill-advised attempts at sabotaging the whole event."

A small smirk begins to play upon his lips. "Right, I've heard all about it. Al is thinking of ways to get to Lily."

"It all sounds like great fun to me," I say with what I hope is evident sarcasm.

"You haven't been to many matches this year."

He's noticed me? "Erm, yeah, chorus practice tends to fall on Saturday mornings."

"Ahh, too tiring for you to make a game?"

I blush. "Something like that." More like I can't stand the beaters pelting bludgers at Scorpius.

"So, you still don't have a date, right?"

Well that's a little rudely put. "No, I don't." If I was blushing before, it's nothing compared to the redness attacking my skin now. "How about you?"

"I've got a plan—I'm waiting for something."

A meteor? A shooting star? Winning the quidditch game? "You're cutting it a little close, aren't you?"

He shakes his head and grins knowingly. "If it works out, then it'll be perfect."

"Lucky girl," I say, straining for casual indifference.

"Let's hope she thinks so. I've had my eye on her for a while."

"A while?" _My voice will not crack. My voice will not crack_.

His grin grows goofy. "Yeah, an _embarrassingly_ long time."

I stand up—perhaps too abruptly since it makes Scorpius jump—and start stuffing my books into my bag. "I've just remembered. I've—erm—I've got to go over some music before rehearsal this Saturday."

"Oh, well, I'll see you tom—"

"Right," I say, desperately avoiding his eyes. "Bye Scorpius!"

xoxoxo

So, I decide, that night reading Mar's copy of _Witch Weekly_ in bed, that I would give up. It's been about three years and no progress, just feelings that threaten to overtake the pit of my stomach. I remember when it all began. It was the Christmas Eve of our fourth year and the Malfoys had gone on vacation to Germany. Scorpius, however, made such a stink that they let him spend the holidays at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's. Uncle George played the upright in their living room while I sang "Away in a Manger." The family bustled all around me, buzzed with holiday cheer and frantic chattering. I turned away from the sheet music—away from my crutch—and surveyed the room. My eyes stopped across the room by the fire, where Scorpius sat, his gazed directed on me.

No one had ever looked at me, in my memory, quite like that before. He looked at me like I was the only other person in the room. I remember my voice faltered slightly before I had to turn away, refocusing on the sheet music and the familiarity of Uncle George's bright red hair.

It was not until after dinner that we greeted each other. Had he always been this nice? Had his eyes always been that particular shade of icy blue? And his hair—when did it stop looking so boyish and begin going rogue? Perhaps, if I had been vehement with myself, I could have nipped those feelings in the bud. But for whatever reason, I didn't. Instead, I let them fester and cripple my sensibilities.

What would my mother say if she could see me now? _It won't always feel like this_ , I reason with myself. After graduation, my pitiful enamouring will fade with the absence of him. That's the thing about boarding school; it's so easy to get sucked into everything because it consumes me. Everything in my life is here, but it won't always be like this.

I flip through the magazine, looking for anything distracting, anything that might cause me not to focus on my pathetic hopelessness, when I find this article:

 **How to Get Over Your MagiCrush**

 _Follow these easy tips for a clearer mind!_

1\. **Admit that it needs to end** : If you're reading this, congrats! You know you need to get over this wizard! First step achieved!

2\. **Distance** : For you to truly leave this toad in the cauldron, minimise exposure! Don't flip around your whole life, just make some easy adjustments for the least number of encounters!

3\. **Be Busy** : Get that wizard right out of your head! Memory charms, however, are _not_ the way to go. Focus on activities you have always wanted to try and start booking yourself up! Whether it's more nights spent drinking butter beer with your witches, or taking up knitting, make sure you exercise your brain!

4\. **Exercise** : Exercise or exorcise? Either way start moving that booty!

5\. **Time** : Give it time, it won't go away overnight, but you can _definitely_ wait it out!

How apt! I grab my quill from my bedside table and dip into the inkwell before dragging it over the bed to the magazine, leaving a trail of black beads in its wake, staining my sheets. Exercise? Probably not my forte, but I circle "distance", "be busy", and "time". I can do this, I can do this.

"Hey, you," Mar says from the doorway.

I bolt straight up, dropping the quill. A big blotch expands over my bedsheet. "Lord almighty, you gave me a heart attack!"

She rolls her eyes and perches on the edge of my bed. "Is that _my_ copy of _Witch Weekly_? Are you _circling_ it?"

I grimace. "I just needed a distraction, and then I found this article and I—well, I don't know what I was thinking. I can get you a new copy."

"Relax, Weasley, it's just a trashy magazine."

I nod. "When is the next dance set-up committee meeting?"

A brow arches in surprise. "Really? You want to pitch in _more_? I practically had to twist your arm to help set-up this Saturday."

I hold up the magazine and flip so it faces her before pointing to the "be busy" circled in black ink. Marianna snatches the magazine from me, breathing the title out under her breath. Her eyes question mine.

"So, you're trying to get over Scorpius?"

I nod.

"All right, then. The next meeting is tomorrow night. The final meeting before the dance set-up is crucial because we finalise the lay-out and address any last-minute concerns. Are you sure you want to come?"

I nod again.

"Great." She sighs with relief. "I swear if I had to spend more time with all of those boasting Gryffindors on my own, I would've exploded!"

I laugh. "Happy to be of service."

xoxoxo

The next morning, I avoid the Great Hall. Even though _Witch Weekly_ is absolute bollocks, I can't help but put my faith in them. It's not like I know anything about wizards, but _they_ do. It's their job, right? So, I eat an apple that I pilfered from the Great Hall a few days previous. I take round-about routes to get to class, which actually turns out to be fun. I never take the time to explore the castle, and there are so many corridors I haven't seen. Unfortunately, the longer paths and my fascination result in a few instances of tardiness.

I walk into Charms a few minutes past the commencement of class. I can feel a blush overcome my face and the tips of my ears as the class turns to me when I open the door. I see Mar at our usual spot in the fourth row. I slide through the back row while Professor Flitwick scolds me. "Please come on time or not at all, Ms. Weasley."

I nod in agreement, avoiding eye contact, while squeezing into my seat next to Mar. "Sorry, Professor!"

I try to ignore the stares from across the room, whom I know belong to Albus, and perhaps, even Scorpius. Of course one of the classes I'm late to happens to be the only one we have with the Slytherins.

"Couldn't find the class, eh?" Mar whispers out the side of her mouth.

I nudge her playfully with my elbow. I still feel stares emanating from the Slytherin side. I will myself not to, but I ever so slightly twist my neck. From the corner of my eyes, I see Scorpius Malfoy stare at me. My head snaps back. I grasp the edge of Mar's notebook and scribble in the margins: "Is SM looking at me right now?"

Marianna pretends to stretch, craning her neck before settling back down to answer with one word: "Yes."

We both look at each other. My eyes are full of wonder and hers of disbelief. She looks again and her eyes widen further. She writes down: "He's still looking . . ."

I shake my head. I change my posture to focus on Flitwick, but my body is shaky. It feels warm and nervous with his gaze lighting me from the inside out. I feel his searing stare for the rest of class.

When Flitwick finishes, I hurriedly jam my things into my book bag.

"In a rush?" Mar teases.

"Stuff it, Wood," I mutter.

The class is slow to get out of the cramped room. The leisurely shuffle from the rows to the exit usually doesn't bother me, but today it does. As I exit the classroom, Albus corners me.

"Never thought I'd see you late for a class, Rose," he smiles.

I roll my eyes. "I live to keep you on your toes, Alb."

We start to walk towards the Great Hall for lunch hour. Scorpius moves behind me, which I try to not focus on.

"Are you all right?" Scorpius asks. "I mean, the both of you."

"Yeah, we're both fine. Thanks, Scorpius," Mar responds.

I try not to look at him, but I notice that his fingers are stained with dirt again. More Herbology extra credit?

"How did it go with Hugo?" Scorpius asks me, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, um, she said yes."

"So your advice worked, then?"

This _so_ does not count as breaking contact. "I guess so."  
"I told him," Albus says. "I told him the men in our family have a way with birds."

"What did I say about that word, Albus?" I say. I shove him light heartedly.

Scorpius laughs. I look back. I've made this seem too normal, but then again, shouldn't it be normal? _I_ just need to dissociate. "Well, I'm going this way," I say. I point to a different corridor that will take me to the library.

"You're not eating lunch?" Scorpius looks concerned.

"I've got some things in my bag," I say.

"Late to class, eating in the library—what's next Rose? What would Aunt Hermione say about your deviancy?" Albus teases.

I roll my eyes again. "Yeah, yeah." I head down the corridor.

xoxoxo

I'm able to get some dinner from the house elves in the kitchens before the dance set-up meeting. I grin, proud of myself for outsmarting the system. Uncle George had mentioned this to me before, but this is the first time I've ever tried it. I giggle, thinking about how appalled my mother would be to know I took advantage of the house elves. Ordinarily, Hogwarts's reliance on house elf labour makes me sick, but the thrill of my rebellion overpowers any morality at this moment.

The meeting is in a classroom not too far from the kitchens. I arrive a few minutes early and find a seat next to Mar.

She raises an eyebrow. "You should know I just got chewed out by Scorpius Malfoy."

I blanch. " _What_?"

"He thinks you're developing an eating disorder and I should be more observant." She looks unamused.

Why is her concerning himself with my health? "That is so _odd_."

She shakes her head. "I'm starting to think that this may not be so one-sided."

I glare at her. "Don't you dare say that. Because if you're wrong, then it will hurt so much more than it already does."

Mar nods. "Okay, okay, I'll say no more on the subject."

xoxoxo

It's all over school that Lavinia threw herself at Scorpius after Slytherin defeated Gryffindor in the match. It follows me between chorus rehearsal and dance set-up. Setting-up for the dance proves to be long and solitary. Solitary in the sense that I'm doing menial tasks, and though I'm paired with Mar, we can't talk as freely as I would like. Instead, I find myself the recipient of internal reflection. My mind replays the rumour over and over, trying to imagine it. Was he surrounded by his team? Was this what he was waiting for? Did he want the win, so that he could ask her in front of the entire school? I never thought Scorpius Malfoy would go for flashy, but here we are. As it turns out, I don't know a lot about Scorpius. At all.

"I hear she flung herself on him, no hesitation, and just _kissed_ him," a Gryffindor boy says to a friend while using their wands to hang.

"Yeah, apparently, they just snogged in front of _everyone_ ," the friend says.

In front of everyone? I feel like there's a fist clamped around my heart, squeezing. I groan, but only loud enough for Marianna to hear. She puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes me towards tables we need to set-up. The theme is the galaxy. The roof of the Great Hall is the night sky, despite it being only three in the afternoon, and each table has a star-shaped candle as the centrepiece and a midnight-blue tablecloth decorated with constellations.

I have a box of candles in my hands while Mar has a stack of tablecloths over her shoulder. We start laying them out. She whispers in my ear, "Are you all right?" But I can only shrug.

God, I _hate_ that I'm wallowing in self-pity. I am Rose Weasley; daughter of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. I am _better_ than this. I am better than this self-pity. I sniffle a couple of times, before I'm sure that I've successfully kept tears at bay.

I am an undeniable _catch_ , and any bloke would be absolutely _lucky_ to end up with me. Men like Scorpius Malfoy are a dime a dozen. I can find a completely unattainable attraction anywhere; those useless feelings aren't going any place. But _I_ am—Hogwarts will be over soon. Adolescence ends, and adulthood will be _so_ much better.

I look over at Mar, across the table from me. "Mar, would you like to go to the dance with me, tonight?"

She stares at me. A broad smile graces her features. "Why, Ms. Weasley! I thought you'd never ask."

I giggle. "Perfect. I couldn't imagine going with anyone but you."

She smiles.

Set-up finishes after another hour. I must admit, the Great Hall looks really excellent—I've never seen it look so ethereal. The night sky is a common theme, but this one is more galaxy-esque. We're absolutely surrounded by constellations in the sky. Little lines connect the stars with constellation names written underneath in cursive. Meteors periodically go by, as do shooting stars.

"It's really something, isn't it?" Mar says to me as I inspect our work before exiting.

"I've never seen anything quite like it."

We walk out of the Great Hall, arm-in-arm. "Rose, he's going to be there."

I shrug. "It's my dance, too. He doesn't get ownership over every student activity."

"What happened to avoiding him?"

"I can avoid him again on Sunday. Besides, there will be too many students tonight to even bump into him."

We go to the Black Lake—the sun is out and the grass is crisp. It crunches under the weight of our oxfords. Despite the brisk air, the kind of air that resides on the cusp of spring at winter's end, the lake is pleasant. The breeze coming off it isn't too intense, and the sun serves to warm us, despite the indecision of seasons. Mar filched a few toffees from the kitchen earlier this morning and takes them out of her bag.

"I present to you," she says. "A feast."

I laugh and clap. "Perfect! Perfect!"

She divvies up the toffees.

"When did he graduate?" I say.

Mar looks up, bewildered. "Who?"

"The guy you wished would ask you. When did he graduate?"

She sighs, and puts my share of the sweets in my hand. "Two years ago, but—"

"So, he's James's year?"

She bites her lip. "Yeah, but . . . look, Rose, it's not going to happen, okay?"

I frown. When did she become so nihilist? Maybe when I went completely emo a couple of days ago, but still. "What's the harm in talking about him? Merlin's beard—is he the son of a Death Eater?"

"No!" Mar scowls. "He just . . . wouldn't even know I ever existed, alright? Can we leave it at that?"

"Why won't you tell me? What's the big deal?"

" _Please_ stop pushing this," she says.

But the only reason she wouldn't tell me is if the guy has dark wizards as parents (which is apparently a no), is a _complete_ arse, or . . . no—could it be?

"Is it because he's related to me?"

Marianna fiddles with her toffee, keeping her eyes trained on her hands. I tip her head up a little. Tears start to form.

"But why wouldn't you just _tell_ me?" I say.

She gives me a sad half-smile. "Believe me, I wanted to, but I was—I was just scared."

" _Scared_?" Of what? _Me_?

"Think about it, Rose," Mar says. "Think about why you're so thankful to be in Hufflepuff: loyalty. I didn't want you to think _I_ would ever use you to get closer to your family."

I shake my head. "I would _never_ , Mar. I would never think that in a million years. You were my friend long before puberty struck."

"I don't think eleven is that long before puberty," Mar says, smiling through the few tears that escape her eyes.

"Eh," I say. "It's long enough."

She laughs. "So, we're still the best of friends?"

I roll my eyes. "Of _course_." I think about it for a minute. "But can I ask you a question?"

Mar nods, plopping a piece of toffee into her mouth.

" _Why_?" James is not what I would ever call a "catch."

She throws her head back laughing and shoves me. I go down without a fight, laughing, too.

"Hey," she says, breaking up our giggling. "Do you know what you're wearing, yet?"

I shrug. "I don't think it matters much. Just a dress, yeah?"

She nods. "But don't you want to look nice? Y'know . . . just in case?"

"Just in case of what?" I say.

"In case _someone_ is there that you, well, want to impress?"

I guffaw. "I highly doubt it, Mar. I just want to have a good time, all right?"

"Yeah," she says. She starts chomping on more toffee. "Me, too. This year has been a really stressful, especially the applying for jobs."

Mar already knows what field she wants to go into; journalism. _The Daily Prophet_ is ideal, but a local paper is more likely so that she can build her résumé. After graduation, I don't have any plans.

"Mar, if anyone deserves a brilliant night, it's you," I say.

She grins. "I intend on having the best night ever, with my best friend."

We end up staying by the lake for a little longer than intended. It's almost six by the time we decide to head back and change. Mar gathers up the toffee wrappers, and we run back to the castle. It got too chilly for us, anyway. With the sun dulling as it moves from its peak, the wind coming from the lake is no longer refreshing but brisk.

xoxoxo

We arrive at the Great Hall entrance with a flood of other students surrounding us. Marianna and I left the Hufflepuff common room with a swarm of fellow honey badgers, but were met with more and more houses. The air is jittery; dances are such rare occasions that there is a certain mystery, a certain—dare I say— _magic_ concerned. Anything can happen the night of a dance. People chat away nervously and excitedly as we enter the Great Hall, which already has students milling about. We are neither the first nor the last to show up.

Sometimes, if my dad isn't around, I can get my mom to recall the happenings of the Yule Ball. She knows what I really want to hear about; the Weird Sisters. I know we won't have the Weird Sisters, (as much as I wish we would), but I still feel a small pang of disappointment in my stomach when I see an unfamiliar group of wizards and witches up on the makeshift stage.

"I love this song!" Mar grabs my hand and pulls me with her as she rushes towards the onslaught of students jumping and dancing to the beat. Both of us pull up with our free hands at our gowns so that we don't step on them. My dress is a light, sky blue whose chest dips into a deep V-neck with no sleeves. Mar's dress is an intense purple that has a straight neckline across her collarbone, but a scandalously exposed back.

She takes us to the middle of the dance floor, amid students that I both vaguely recognise _and_ personally know. Mar begins thrashing about energetically. The band is at the very least covering a Weird Sisters' song, so I take that as a good omen. A couple of quiet Ravenclaw girls from last year's Charms class join us. Hogwarts should have more dances; they truly bring together the different houses.

While we're tearing up the dance floor (ha!) I see Karen and Hugo about twenty feet away. I can't remember the last I saw Hugo smile so widely. He's not all that great at keeping rhythm (a fact which comes into play every time I've questioned our relation) but Karen doesn't seem to mind that much, or at all, really. From now on, Hugo Weasley will be my role model. It's official. The thought causes a giggle, but none of the girls I'm dancing with notice. They don't notice because I've been smiling and giggling all night.

After what feels like hours, but is probably only one, Mar mimes drinking something, and flicks her gaze over to the refreshments table. I nod, and, with promises to the other girls that we'll be back, we make our way through the throng of sweaty teenagers. It's a manoeuvring game, but we eventually find ourselves in front of a punch bowl. Mar begins ladling when Albus strolls up, looking a bit perturbed.

"And where, exactly, have you been?"

I frown. "Dancing."

" _No_ ," he says. "I mean, where have you been all day?"

I sigh. "If this is about Charms or something, can we talk about it tomorrow?"

Albus scoffs. "It's not about _Charms_ , it's about _Scorpius_."

My heart begins to beat harder, (it can't really go any faster due to my dancing). "What does Scorpius have to do with anything?"

"He's been looking for you since the match, but no one knew where either of you went."  
"We were by the lake," Mar says. "We had ourselves a nice picnic."

Albus rolls his eyes, and places his hands on his hips. I have the same feeling I do when my dad ( _very_ occasionally) scolds me. "Well bully for you two, then, yeah? Because while you guys had a nice afternoon, Scorpius was running all around the castle. He even followed some Hufflepuffs back to their common room to find you."

"What for?" I say.

"What for?" Albus asks in disbelief. He steps back from me, arms stretched slightly at his sides while he looks up at the ceiling. "What for? Honestly." He places his stare back on to me. "And I thought _I_ was daft to have missed it, but you take the cake, Rosie."

"Merlin's beard! What are you on about?" I look over at Mar for some back up, but her eyes have a faraway look and she's frowning, like something is clicking into place.

"Look," Albus says. "You two stay by the punch bowl, and I'll be _right back_ , okay?"

We nod dumbly, because what else can we do? What on earth could Scorpius Malfoy want? Isn't he here with Lavinia? I haven't exactly been looking for him—petrified that I'd find him in a dark corner somewhere, snogging her.

Mar hands me the punch, and I drink it. It's a little strong, meaning someone—probably one of James's leftover fans—spiked it. But I keeping drinking, liking the burning sensation that trickles down my throat.

When Albus comes back, he's alone. "That means I've missed him," he says. As if that statement could convey any meaning for either of us.

"Well, I guess we'll see him tomorrow, then," I say, about to turn back to the dance floor.

Albus grasps my shoulder. "No, I have to give you a message."

"A message?"

"Yeah. He couldn't find you, so now you have to meet him," he says.

"Look, I'm just trying to have a fun evening—"

Albus scowls. "Rosie, he has been working _overtime_ just to do this, so I'm _begging_ you, please meet my friend. Here," he says. He hands me a crumpled-up piece of parchment.

"Come to the greenhouse," is written in black ink.

I look over at Mar. She nods. I look back down at the note.

"Just _go_ ," Albus says with impatience lining his voice.

If I go, there's no coming back from this. Doesn't that sound stupid? But if I start to walk to the greenhouse, clutching this scrap of parchment, I'm going to start hoping again. And if I'm wrong—but how _could_ I be? —then how can I possibly get through the last part of this year? _Be brave, Rose_ , I think to myself. I need to be brave. Because if I don't go? That's even worse than not going at all.

I nod, clutch a bit of fabric from my dress, the note in my other hand, and start to run. I mentally pat myself on the back for wearing flats this evening. Luck must be on my side because Filch is nowhere to be seen, and I don't run into any faculty. I bust open the castle doors and pad down the stairs before making my way across to the greenhouse.

It's weird being out, alone, at night on the Hogwarts' grounds. I can't hear the music from the Great Hall anymore. I only hear the beating of my heart, my feet on the pavement, and my breath. The night air is cool, much cooler than earlier, but the wind from the lake must have gotten lost, because I don't feel anything but stagnant night air, and the glow of the stars and the moon on my skin. It's like the whole world is lying in wait for me. I'm only dimly aware of the chill in the air because my skin is burning from my running.

My hair, which was done into a low bun, secured by pearl-studded clips, is falling loose—bits at the front are coming out, so that I need to push it behind my ears. Baby hairs find their way back to the nape of my neck.

Climbing up the stairs to the greenhouse, I almost lose my footing. Both my legs and my hands shake. But I am _in this_. My parents have had unbelievable lives; they helped stop Voldemort, undergone countless adventures. They have lived fully. If I die, I want to say I've done something great. Maybe not something like my parents—it's already been done, after all—but at least one thing that is worthy of courage. While I'm not in Gryffindor, that doesn't mean I have a dearth of bravery. I can't help but feel that opening this door, where Scorpius is supposedly waiting for me, is an act of courage all on its own. It's one that will give me my own kind of glory.

My hand trembles as I reach out for the door handle. As soon as it clasps around the cool metal of the knob, the tremors diminish. I can do _anything_. I turn the knob, and the door opens. No lock. Someone is inside. _Scorpius_ is inside. I take a deep breath and walk in.

The moonlight reigns supreme through the windows. The only darkness comes from the shade of the window panes, which slants across rows of pots and planters. It's also warmer in here—staggeringly so. I haven't taken Herbology in a while, but being back in the greenhouse—the scent of lessons past wafting in my nostrils—I remember Professor Longbottom casting humidity charms. "Better for the plants," he explained, once.

I would've thought I was totally alone, if I didn't hear a sharp intake of breath. My head swivels in the opposite direction, and there, in the corner, almost obscured by shadows, sits Scorpius. He has two stools surrounding a specific pot. He stands shakily. He's still in his dress robes, but I can tell that they're not the main focus tonight, that they're just innocent bystanders. His hair is in complete disarray, and once again his hands are stained by dirt.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming," he says. But it's quiet, because he doesn't need to speak up. It's just us here.

I start to walk towards him. The closer I get, the more afraid his eyes are. "I'm right here," I say. Merlin, that sounds stupid, but I can't think of anything better.

"You're just in time," he says. A relieved smile graces his lips, and he gestures at the empty stool next to his. I sit down and look at the flower in the pot. It's nothing spectacular, just a purple hibiscus with magenta spots on the petals.

"For what?" I say.

He takes one of my hands and encases it within two of his own. His palms are so _soft_. It's not until I feel his warmth penetrating me that I'm aware of how cold my skin is. His hands are like an electric shock, sending shivers down my spine.

"Are you alright?" Scorpius notices my shivering.

I nod.

All of Scorpius's attention is captured by the flower. The moon floods in a little brighter, and the flower swells upward, as if taking a breath. It continues this motion, as if drawing energy. The more energy it draws, the more vibrant the colours grow. The flower electrifies, lighting up the dim room. The long stalk in the middle points towards the moon, its golden colour now that of the sun. Its stem is the colour of green grass after intense rain. How could anyone possibly want to be at the dance when there's such beauty right here, just a few minutes away?

I'm not sure how long the flower shines, but it feels too short once it reverts to its normal state. I look over at Scorpius, but he's already staring at me.

"How did you know it would do that?" I say.

He smiles. "I've been working on this plant for months with Professor Longbottom, but this is the first night its glowed."

I frown. "Why?"

"It's been fully grown for a couple of weeks, now, but the moon has never been strong enough."

"So, it can only do that when the moon is full," I say.

Scorpius nods. "I figured I needed a grand gesture."

"A grand gesture for what?" My stomach does flips, and I know my hands will start to shake soon. I can only hope he doesn't notice.

Scorpius doesn't answer me. He just leans forward slightly, his eyes firmly on mine. I know what he wants, because I want it, too. I copy his movements until our foreheads and the bridges of our noses touch lightly. My skin burns with both the proximity and the contact. I can hear him breathing, can feel some air coming from his mouth. I take my forehead from his, using our noses like a hinge, and place my lips onto his.

They, like his hands, are warm, and they begin to nip at my lips. It's gentle at first, and slow, but it builds traction until I can't tell our lips apart. I slide my hands through his hair—it's just as silky as I thought it would be. He does the same to me. I don't dare open my eyes—I don't want to think about what kind of mess my hair must be in. Soon our tongues join the mix, and Scorpius groans slightly. _I_ made Scorpius groan. I can't stop the smile from taking over my lips. Scorpius must feel it because he pulls away.

He returns to leaning his forehead on mine, breathing shallowly. "Wow," he says.

I nod. "Wow."

Scorpius takes a stray lock of my hair and places it behind my ear. He smirks. "I am _so_ glad you came."

I grin. "The grand gesture was for me?"

He laughs softly, like he's afraid to make too much noise. The peace of the greenhouse is almost sacred. "I wouldn't grandly gesture for anyone else."

I laugh, too. "So, it's not really extra credit for Herbology that you sneak off to do, huh?"

Scorpius leans back, which disappoints me, but he makes up for it by intertwining our hands on my lap. "Not exactly."

I don't say anything.

"I guess I just couldn't ignore it anymore," he says. "The pull I felt towards you. I've felt it for a while, but . . . Albus is my best friend. It was no use, though. You're special, and I figured you deserved something special."

Can he see my blush, even in the din of the pale light?

"But," Scorpius says. "None of my plans seemed very good." He shrugs. "It wasn't until over winter break, when I flipped through my Herbology textbook out of sheer boredom that I stumbled across this plant. When I got back to Hogwarts, I badgered Professor Longbottom for a week or two before he finally gave in to help me."

"Woah," I say.

"When the full moon fell on tonight, the dance, I couldn't believe my luck. But I'm kind of an idiot," he says.

My eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

"I didn't know how to ask you," he says.

"I don't need some big show," I say.

"That's why you deserve one," Scorpius says.

I roll my eyes. "I'm serious, you could've just asked."

He shakes his head. "The moment always got ruined, and then I couldn't ever seem to get you alone."

I flush.

"And then, after the match, I needed to find you because that was my last chance, but it was like you disappeared."

"Yeah, Albus told me."

"He didn't understand what was wrong until I finally told him my feelings."

I pause. "And what _are_ your feelings?"

Scorpius smirks again. "I have the biggest crush on you in the entire history of crushes."

I fling my head back and laugh. "What a line, Scorpius Malfoy."

"But it's true," he says, chuckling. "I wouldn't say it if it weren't."

"What about Lavinia?"

He grimaces. "Blimey, she jumped me on the quidditch field. I don't think I've ever spoken to her before. That was another reason I needed to find you; I couldn't have you thinking I was with another girl."

I sigh.

"What is it?"

"I just," I say. "Can't believe this is really happening."

He smiles. "It feels like a dream," he says.

"Exactly," I say, bobbing my head in agreement. "It's so surreal. This whole time I've thought you liked someone else, or that you've never even noticed me."

"Impossible," he says, still smiling.

"But here you are," I say. "Proving me wrong."

"If I'd known you were waiting I would've hurried up," he says.

I giggle. "I wasn't waiting on you," I say.

"No?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No. I think I was waiting on me." And it's true.

"Well I'm glad you're finally ready," he says.

I grin. "I'm glad, too."

xoxoxo

We stay in the greenhouse for a while. We talk, and . . . we do other things. Things that involve lips and hands. But we eventually return to the Great Hall. A lot of the younger students have left—third and fourth years—so it's easier to discern who's on the dance floor. We see Albus moving jerkily to the beat of the song, which causes many students to give him a wide berth. I spot him instantly. Scorpius leads me onto the floor and starts to dance. He's not exactly the best dancer, but he's better than Albus, which is good enough for me.

Albus finds us and grins. "Ah," he says, pretending to wipe away a tear. "True love at my own hand!"

I blush a little at the word "love" but Scorpius takes it all in stride, laughing jovially. "Alright, Alby," he says. "Cut it out."

"Have you seen Marianna?" I say.

Albus nods and points over to the side of the stage. "She's talking to James. It turns out, he's not taking over Uncle George's shop."

I frown. "He's not? What else does he even like?"

Albus gives me a superior smile. "Music."

" _Music_?"

Albus nods. "He's the band's manager."

"What?"

"Yeah, he wanted to surprise us."

Knowing James, he probably wanted to pull an elaborate prank on us, but I keep quiet. Maybe Albus is right and James has changed for good. Who knows?

I look over to where Albus gestured a second ago and see Marianna laughing. I can only see the back of James's head at this angle, but I can make out some wild gesticulations, like he's telling her a story. I smile. I was right; anything _can_ happen at a dance.

The fast song that the band was playing stops. The lead singer starts speaking into the mic. "Alright," he says. "It's getting a little late, Hogwarts students. So, we're going to play one last song for you this evening. It's a slow one." He winks at us.

Scorpius places his hands at my waist, and I clutch at his shoulders. I lean my head in so that my ear is at his upper chest and my nose is breathing in the scent of his neck. We're flush against each other, and once again his warmth amazes me.

"I like you so much," he murmurs.

We sway lazily to the beat, and I let my ears soak in his words. I had always thought that if this ever happened, I would be so astounded that Scorpius would ever like me—but the thing is, Scorpius isn't some god. He's just an eighteen-year-old guy, and he fancies me. And I fancy him. At the end of the day, that's all that really counts.

I breathe out against his chest. "I like you so much, too."

His hands circle to the small of my back, leaving scorch marks in their wake. He feels so good against my body. I didn't know anything could feel this way.

"Good," he says. He kisses the tip of my ear.

xoxoxo

The rest of the term flies by. Scorpius, as it turns out, loves Herbology. And since I mostly like reading (though not for school) we hang out at the greenhouse a lot while he does projects for Professor Longbottom. This is equally good because then _I_ can talk to Professor Longbottom who is also a family friend. But, I don't read all that often in the greenhouse, because I find that I like talking to Scorpius even better than I like to read about the Weird Sisters and their contemporaries. The funny thing is, that's mostly what Scorp and I talk about—music.

In April, a lot of us find out where what we're going to do for the next year. Mar has a job at a newspaper in Little Whinging, while I'm able to secure a position at a record shop in Diagon Alley. We had loosely hoped to live together, but with the distance it wouldn't make any sense. Instead, I make a plan with one of those Ravenclaw girls from the dance, Bryony Davies, who got a job at Gringotts, to find an apartment together.

"I would even be okay with muggle London," she told me a couple weeks before graduation.

Scorpius will be joining the Chudley Cannons for training this summer, and if all goes well—which it will—he'll have a permanent offer. He's ecstatic, but his father is a little less happy about it.

Marianna, meanwhile, has been writing regularly with James since the dance. "We really hit it off," she said that night in our room.

"Really?" I said.

She nodded. "He's even better than I remember."

I'll admit, I still don't really get it. Since James has always been a huge pest, him generating a positive reaction is a little foreign to me. But he makes her smile.

Albus has no firm plans, which is unsurprising, because it's Albus. Uncle George said he could have James's old job at the shop, so Albus will do that. Albus has also been really cool about Scorpius and me. I've tried to be considerate of the fact that Scorp is Albus's best friend—so I aim not to monopolise all of his time, no matter how much I want to.

Some people perform great miracles—people like my parents—while other people perform smaller, every day miracles—people like me. I often wonder how I found the courage to turn the door handle to the greenhouse that night of the dance. It may seem small, but that single gesture was me putting myself out there, prepared to bring about the miracle that is two people who fancy each other enough to make a go of it. It's not saving the world, but it's still something incredible, something that changes the lives of two people completely and utterly. I turned that door handle, ready to alter my life in the hopes of altering it for the better. I will never regret meeting Scorpius Malfoy in the greenhouse. Even if we fall apart, I'll know it was because we were once together.


End file.
